There'll Always be Paris
by anonymouth
Summary: Paris throws up a few surprises; but is one night all there will ever be between them? Rubbish at summaries! Not sure about the romance category - suppose it is in a very Miranda-esque way! please read, anyway!
1. Chapter 1

**Been working on this story on and off for AGES! Hope it's worth it..let me know :) xx**

**Disclaimer: Usual. I am but a poor student with nothing to my name, especially not these characters.**

* * *

There'll Always be Paris

It was late. Or so Andy assumed. It was dark. But then again, it had been dark for a long time. Truth was she didn't know what time it was, how long she'd been there, or even if she cared. She wrapped her poncho tighter around herself, feeling bones she didn't know she'd had six months ago. She looked down at herself, a stone lighter, and a dress size smaller, kitted out in the latest fashion, and felt nothing.

_A million girls would kill for that job._

She wondered at this. A million girls who lived and breathed fashion. Catwalks. Runway. Miranda. A million girls, who thought they would have everything, be complete with a purpose if only they had her job. She wondered if they would end up feeling as alone and empty as her.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, heat behind her. She turned, half-smile, expecting Nate, or someone, anyone who made her fit.

"We called last orders half an hour ago, ma'am."

She nodded at the bar tender and drained her wine. It had turned warm an hour ago. She headed out into the Parisian night, clear and freezing. As she wandered unsteadily back to the hotel, she allowed herself a wry smile. Growing up, she had always wanted to go to Paris: The Eiffel Tower; Saloon; Arc de Triomphe. She had wanted to save for a romantic trip, something which seemed ludicrously unlikely now that she and Nate had finished. She never thought she'd be there in the middle of Paris Fashion Week with not a hope in hell of seeing anything but heels and flashing cameras.

She entered the hotel, the heaters blow making her feel suddenly claustrophobic. She thought of the suite she was sharing with Miranda and decided to get a drink by the bar.

The bartender was pulling the shutters down as she arrived. He was most apologetic, especially when he realised she was staying with Miranda. Apparently she had been less than impressed with her room service that night. She cringed inwardly as she stumbled into the elevator, her heel catching on the bottom of her black trousers. She supposed it was a good thing that the bar was shut. She probably would have ended up drowning herself. No doubt that when she saw Miranda the sub-standard room service would somehow be her fault, probably because she hadn't pre-empted that nights events and stuck around to sort it out. As she snorted at this, Andy realised that, unusually she hadn't had a phone call all night from her boss. Bracing herself, she let herself into the room as quietly as possible, not easily achieved given that her brain had just decided to acknowledge how much alcohol she had consumed and her head began to swim.

She collapsed on the sofa, unwilling to risk trying to get to her room and waking Miranda, who was in the opposite suite to her room that adjoined the living room, in the process. Her eyes were closed, her mind was drifting.

She thought she heard a voice, but it was far away. Echoing. Nate, complaining, Lily shouting; Emily insulting; Miranda demanding. She rolled over on the sofa, curled into herself, away from everything.

'Just let me die.'

* * *

Miranda's hand stilled suddenly in mid air. She had strode into the living room when she heard the door shutting, but slowed her pace when she saw Andrea collapse onto the sofa. She wondered fleetingly if her assistant was unwell, but dismissed the thought of asking. She frowned at the fact that she was still even thinking about it. What did she care? She was the girl's boss not her nurse. Her frown deepened when she caught scent of the alcohol emanating from the sofa.

"Andrea." No reply. Miranda took another step towards the sofa. She was impatient. She didn't know why. She didn't want Andrea conscious for any particular reason, but she was just used to having her people at her constant beck and call. It was irritating to find herself alone.

"Andrea." She tried again. No response. She reached out her hand to grab the woman's shoulder but stopped when Andrea moved. Without opening her eyes, she turned into the couch, her back to Miranda, wrapping her arms around herself.

'Just let me die.'

Miranda managed to catch the gasp that almost fell from her throat. Her irritation floated away as she leaned over slightly and saw a tear forming in the corner of Andrea's eye. Without thinking too deeply, she pulled the soft cashmere throw up over Andrea's shoulder, leaving it fall lightly, her wish to have the woman conscious now dissipated. Apparently the woman was disturbed enough already.

* * *

The car was gliding smoothly, like silk slithering over the roads. Andrea smiled, relaxed into the seat. A shadow of a frown disturbed her features as the engine began to groan and _thud, thud, thud._ It got louder, took on a voice of its own, _thud, thud, thud._ The car began to roll; she was no longer in control. Over the cliff. _Thud, thud, thud_ Andrea _thud, thud, thud_ Andrea...

She woke with a start, and promptly squeezed one eye shut when it became obvious that they wouldn't focus together. It took a while for her to analyze her surroundings and she wondered why she wasn't in her flat. Everything hit her at once and she groaned as she collapsed back down.

"Ah, Andrea, finally. I have been talking to you for the last half hour. I have ordered my own room service for the second time, clearly the staff here are even more incompetent than the ones that surround me given the sorry state of dinner last night," Miranda paused slightly and glared at Andrea over the top of her glasses before continuing her almost whisper, "it will be arriving in two minutes. You will check that it is at the very least hot, and I mean hot, Andréa, and fetch it through to my room. I have a meeting at 8.30 in the Lagoon, no, absolutely no flowers at all seeing as it seems the florists of Paris are quite unable to distinguish between a freesia and any other plant life and make sure there's a coffee."

Miranda wafted into her room as quietly as she had spoken. Andy pulled the cushion up over her head; her eyes squeezed shut, her brain screaming.

* * *

More demands, more flashes. More dresses. More demands. By the time Andy got back to the hotel at the end of the day she was numb. She collapsed onto the couch, eternally grateful to Nigel, who had supplied her with enough Tylenol to suppress her headache, but now she had to finally acknowledge her growling stomach. She grabbed a cushion, held it close as her thoughts turned to Miranda.

_Andrea, Andrea, Andrea. This is the new Emily...the new Emily...my new Emily...Andrea...so good to meet you..._

She grabbed her head, the throbbing back full force. Andy found her feet and rushed towards the door. She had to get out.

* * *

Miranda Priestly, the great unmovable Miranda Priestly listened to the sudden onslaught of buzzing on the other end of the phone for what seemed like forever, and then threw it across the room. Her already red rimmed eyes filled with fresh tears. She made her way to the bathroom where she stood for an eternity in front of the mirror studying herself. Her hand moved slowly up to her cheek, her fingers feeling the tear tracks streaking them. With a small pang and skip of a heartbeat, she realised that the tears were not for Stephen, or even for the conversation that had just ended so abruptly between them.

Miranda Priestly, the great unmovable Miranda Priestly sat on the toilet seat and hugged herself close. She tried to convince herself she felt nothing, thought of nothing, even as she shut her eyes and images of Andrea flashed through her mind. She stifled sobs as she realised that it was not Stephen who she wished would appear in the room, even though she knew she would send anyone who dared away. And it was not Stephen who she could see when she closed her eyes against the onslaught of fresh tears. Miranda's brain screamed.

* * *

She had thought a little earlier in the evening that ordering a whole bottle of wine instead of paying by the glass would be a better option. Andy, who usually hardly ever drank, stared into the bottle, which she had apparently emptied all by herself. She held her chin in both hands and squinted to try and focus more clearly. Giving up, she reached unsteadily for her glass and barely managed to stifle a scream when she noticed a hand resting on top of it. She spun around on the barstool expecting to meet some waiter ready to escort her off the trendy premises.

It took a great deal of effort for her to lift her eyes from the dickie bow to focus on the smiling face.

"You look in need of a coffee."

Andy smiled as she relaxed again and ducked her head.

"Christian! Hi! What are you doing here?" she tried to focus on her words but nevertheless she sounded slurry even to her own ears.

Christian slid onto the stool next to her and gently spun her around to face him.

"Apparently I am reprising my role as a knight in shining armour for the glamorously mysterious brunette that keeps flitting in and out of my life."

He smiled at the slight blush that graced Andy's cheekbones and raked his hand through his dirty blonde curls.

"Actually I'm escaping. And as I snook past, I happened to notice you looked like you were doing the same thing." He glanced at the empty bottle on the bar. "So I thought, mysterious brunette Miranda lady, that we could escape together."

Andy flicked her hair over her shoulder.

"And what makes you think that I have anything to escape from?"

Christian smiled and stood. He retrieved Andy's jacket and held it out for her.

"You work for laPriestly. That's the ultimate lair to escape from. And besides, you owe me, remember, for helping you out with the gruesome twosome. Be part of my escape plan so I don't feel so guilty. I mean, I couldn't possible ignore a damsel in distress and leave her all alone, could I? Coffee?"

Andy laughed and protested even as she slid off her stool and into her coat.

"I refuse to be the reason for your shirking Mr. Thompson. Or your damsel in distress. However, a non alcoholic beverage sounds good right about now, and seeing as it's your treat I shall overlook the fact that you are merely using me as a means of escape."

They were both laughing as they left the bar, Andy having managed to trip over practically every table on the way to the door.

"Did you see the bartender?" Christian laughed, his eyes twinkling and his blonde hair dancing on the chilly breeze. They were both consumed by a fit of giggles as they staggered down the street, neither seemingly noticing as their bodies melted closer together, their feet drawing them towards Christian's hotel.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't the noise that woke her, but she jolted awake as if she had been screamed at. She looked around, bewildered, sure there was something missing. Then her memory came back. Bar. Coffee. Christian. Bed. _Oh, God,_ she thought, her hand flying to her head. She gingerly glanced down at herself and let out a tiny squeak at the realisation that she was naked. With more than a little trepidation, as if in slow motion she turned her head towards the bedside clock. At the sight of the flashing numbers she squealed louder and began a hurricane journey around the apartment.

* * *

She was late. Miranda Priestly was never late, she arrived exactly when she meant to. This, however, was only possible when an assistant was around to arrange it. Miranda glanced at her clock again, removed her glasses and chewed the arm thoughtfully. Her face revealed nothing, but her eyes were ablaze.

She picked up the phone and dialled reception – again. Her voice deathly quiet, she explained her requirements and abruptly hung up without giving them a chance to question or protest even if they had dared to. Without a backward glance she swept out of the room, the only sign of her emotions coming as the door continued to rattle long after she had reached the elevator.

Andy struggled with pulling on a stocking single-handed whilst aimlessly throwing things around looking for her phone with her other hand. As she bent down to retrieve the other stocking, she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a Runway cover on the floor. Hesitantly, she picked up the piece of card and stared numbly at it for a few minutes.

"Ah, you're awake." Christian emerged from the bathroom, towelling his hair with one hand, and holding Andy's phone out with the other. He flashed a bright smile, but she was still focused on the print.

"What's this?"

"That," he said, coming closer to her and handing over her phone "is what Runway will look like when Jacqueline Follet becomes editor-in-chief."

Andy frowned, her foggy brain struggling to process.

"But Miranda..."

"Things are moving on Andy. Miranda no longer fits. Jacqueline is perfect for this; it's a whole new era."

Andy slowly placed the print on the couch.

"And does Miranda know about this?"

Christian laughed, his nonchalance igniting something in Andy that made her want to rip out the perfect individual curls on his head.

"God no. She'll find out later, at the dinner."

Andy gasped. "In front of all those people, she'd effectively be fired?"

Christian looked at her puzzled.

"Don't tell me you actually care for the Ice Queen now? I thought you of all people would be glad to see the back of her!"

Andy grappled with her shoes and flew towards the door.

"I have to warn her..."

"You'll be too late!" Christian shouted.

Andy practically ran all the way back to her hotel, all the while imagining every bump was Christian's head beneath her cracking completely. She worried about Miranda.

* * *

She picked up her phone automatically, expecting a call from Stephen or her lawyer, and was momentarily stunned at the sound of Andrea's out of breath voice.

"Miranda it's me Andy. Andrea! I'm so sorry I'm late-"

Miranda regained her composure.

"You are not late, Andrea, you are absent. Therefore I have already missed breakfast, a photo shoot and have had to delay a most important meeting-"

Andy bit the bullet and interrupted, her panic at seeing Miranda humiliated outweighing her fear of reprisal.

"I know Miranda and I'm so sorry but you see-"

"Tales of your incompetence do not interest me Andrea as I have told you many times before. Is it so impossible for details to stick into that obviously inferior head of yours? You have let me down."

Andy's protests died down as she realised she was already speaking to a dead line.

* * *

As Andy came tumbled out of the elevator, she practically ran straight into her boss.

"Oh Miranda, thank God. Listen this dinner later,"

Miranda kept briskly walking down the corridor, barely acknowledging Andy.

"Do I smell freesias?"

"What...no, I specifically told them no freesias but-"

"Good, because if I see a single freesia Andrea..."

The sentence dangled and before Andy had a chance to react a door was shut in her face.

Andy paced outside for ages, raising her hand many times, but failing to knock. Eventually, she held her breath and hammered until the door flew open.

"Mr Ravitz, I'm so sorry to interrupt but I really-"

Miranda appeared in the doorway, her face a thunderstorm, her eyes flashing fire and ice.

"Andrea, what is the meaning of this?"

"Miranda please," Andy hurriedly whispered, "you really need to listen to what I have to tell you..."

Miranda gave her a look of such – Andy couldn't quite name it, but the look was such that she lost her trail and recoiled.

"I do not need to listen to anything you have to say, Emily. That will be all." Miranda made sure she pronounced each word with such whispered venom that the quiet clicking of the door shutting was so loud in comparison that it made Andy jump. The finality resounded in Andy's ears. She had called her Emily. And that look. Resentment? Hurt?

Andy shrunk into herself as she walked down the corridor, flinging her uncomfortable shoes off her feet. She had failed.

* * *

Andy still turned up at the dinner. She wasn't sure why; maybe just to watch something else she'd messed up, something else in her life she'd lost. She sat next to Nigel, couldn't help smiling at his excitedness, even as her heart skipped beats. She was so proud of her friend, glad that he was getting this opportunity to go into partnership with James Holt, but at the same time Miranda was losing her life. Andy didn't stop to evaluate why she was so upset by the move. She put it down to loyalty, to not wanting to see others humiliated, even though her working life would undoubtedly be easier without Miranda. She couldn't imagine it. Not now. She heard Miranda start speaking; that quiet lulling voice that held everyone's rapt attention. She could feel Nigel practically buzzing next to her.

"...my good friend and esteemed colleague-" Nigel was practically on his feet already, "-Jacqueline Follet."

Andy's heart practically jumped out of her body. She didn't have to look around to see the confusion around her. James Holt, Jacqueline Follet, Christian. And Nigel. Nigel, Miranda's loyal friend, colleague, deflating. What happened next was a blur. Andy could only see Nigel clapping politely even as he watched Miranda give away his dream, his ambition. Jacqueline Follet, new partner of James Holt; Nigel's job. She caught Nigel's eye, grasped his hand. He smiled wryly.

"She'll pay me back someday."

Andy looked at Miranda air kissing and hugging a woman she had just promoted; a woman she couldn't stand.

"Do you really believe that?"

Nigel sighed, sat down, his smile plastered firmly on his face.

"I have to."

* * *

The whole day replayed itself in Andy's mind as she and Miranda made their way across the city in the car. Slowly, all of the pieces fell into place.

"You knew, didn't you?" Andy kept her voice as steady as she could and kept her eyes focused on the window. Miranda kept up her tapping on the phone.

"Knew what Andrea?"

"The dinner. Jacqueline's promotion. That was the plan all along, wasn't it?"

Miranda sighed almost imperceptibly and tucked her phone away.

"There is one thing, one crucial fact that you must understand Andrea and that is that no one can do this job like me, no one. Runway is my life; I dedicate weekends, holidays, and sick days to it. I sacrifice my marriages, my social life even my children for this job. Jacqueline Follet could never do that, no one could, and therefore Runway would suffer. That cannot happen. Runway is not just a magazine, Andrea; people build their lives around it. I was aware of the plan to put Jacqueline in my place for a while. That meeting with Irv today was where I showed him a list of many people – models, designers, people who I have had personal guarantees of loyalty from – that would follow me should I ever leave Runway. Although I must say, Andrea, I was impressed by how intently you tried to warn me. I see a lot of myself in you, Andrea."

Andy shook her head as she studied Miranda's profile.

"I could never do what you did to Nigel." She saw Miranda smile.

"You already have, Andrea. Was it not you that took Emily's place on this trip?"

Andy gasped. "That was different!" her voice was quivering. "You said-"

"I gave you a choice, Andrea, between staying in New York and losing your job through loyalty to Emily, or taking Emily's place on this trip. You made that choice, Andrea, like it or not."

Andy followed Miranda into the building, through the hordes of paparazzi. Miranda turned and said something, but Andy's mind wasn't processing. She kept her smile in place, nodded at all the right people and in all the right places, and only elicited a few glares from Miranda, but Andy didn't take anything in. She may very well have met the French President and not known. As soon as she knew Miranda was settled, Andy made her way to the bar, earning herself sympathetic looks and free shots when it became apparent that she was Miranda's new 'Emily'. By the time Miranda was ready to leave Andy had to put considerable effort into not slurring her sentences. She could barely bring herself to look at Miranda on the journey back, concentrating instead on weaving her fingers. In. Out. In. Out. Twist.

"Andrea, for goodness sake, can't you find something more constructive and less annoying to occupy yourself with?"

Andy took a deep breath.

"Stop the car." Barely audible. The driver glanced into his mirror. Miranda glared at Andy.

"I said STOP THE CAR!" Andy screamed, her hand pulling the handle before the car had fully stopped. She dragged her eyes up to meet Miranda's, her mind suddenly crystal clear.

"I am nothing like you." She spat before she stumbled from the car and began to run.


	3. Chapter 3

Miranda placed the phone gently back into its cradle, removed her glasses and rubbed her red rimmed eyes. She got up and began to pace again, her hands clutching another glass of scotch. She had tried Andy's phone again shortly after Stephen had hung up. There was still no answer, hadn't been since she got back to the hotel over 4 hours ago. Miranda rubbed her temple as she sat on the couch. She knew she should go to bed, but she couldn't. She knew she should stop drinking, stop crying. Normally, she would have Emily or Andy drawing up new plans for the arrangements tomorrow now that Stephen wasn't...well...but she couldn't. For the first time in her life, Miranda Priestly felt utterly lost and out of control.

* * *

Andy took a deep breath and slowly opened the door to the suite. She had long ago lost track of time as she wandered through the streets. She had stopped at a bar but the incessant noise had latched onto her senses and hammered her brain. She craved for peace, so she had left, leaving her phone down the toilet. She had walked for miles, barely even noticing the throb in her feet, but she still heard the unabating noise in her head. It was all Miranda.

'_The new Emily...Andrea...I have a list of people who would follow me...I see a lot of myself in you...Emily...Isn't that what you've done...I see a lot of myself in you...that's all...'_

Andy was glad of the shadows cast by the soft illumination from the lamps as she found the couch and slid onto it, her head in her hands. She almost jumped a mile when she heard a slight shuffle from the desk and saw Miranda sat there. Andy jumped to her feet.

"Miranda, God I...I...I didn't know you...can I get you anything?" As the words tumbled from her lips, Andy thought wryly that old habits die hard. After all, she had effectively quit her job by jumping out of the car.

Miranda, sitting on the chair, slowly folded her hands in her lap and Andy's heart plummeted as she noticed the dishevelled hair and the red rimmed eyes.

"We need to go through the seating arrangements for tomorrow's dinner."

Andy, her mind suddenly alert, rushed to the desk and scrambled through some papers, not finding it in the least odd that Miranda had so far failed to mention the earlier episode. Nothing Miranda did was surprising anymore.

"Sure, they're here somewhere."

Miranda held her hand up ready. Andy could hear her mentally sighing.

"By all means take your time. You know how it thrills me when you move at a glacial pace."

Miranda slid her glasses back on as she studied the plan that Andy handed to her. Andy, anticipating a major Miranda-heaval of everything, was ready with the notepad.

"We will have Snoop Dogg moved to my table."

Andy mentally visualised the plan.

"But Miranda, your table is full."

Andy was surprised when the usual curt sentence she was expecting at the obviousness of this remark didn't materialise. Instead, she removed her glasses and placed them on the side table.

"Stephen won't be attending. His place needs to be filled."

Andy ran through the day's schedule.

"Oh, ok, so don't need to fetch Stephen from the airport tomorrow?"

Miranda seemed to shrink into herself and fresh tears appeared unbidden into her eyes.

"Well if you call him and he changes his mind about the divorce then by all means fetch him. You're very fetching, so go fetch."

Andy's heart began skipping wildly. Venom she could deal with. Sarcasm by now flew over her head. But tears? She gingerly leaned on the arm of the couch.

"Miranda, I'm so sorry."

"It's the girls I feel sorry for." Miranda's voice, quiet as ever, was breaking. Andy's heart ached. "Yet again, another man in their life gone. And once the press get hold of it, there won't be an escape. _The Ice Queen Strikes Again_, another Mr Priestly gone, and each time they lose that bit more innocence, a bit more of themselves, and there's nothing I can do about it."

Andy's hand reached out for Miranda, but she caught herself.

"Miranda...is there anything I can do?"

Miranda, whose eyes had lifted from the floor to follow Andy's hand, suddenly snapped out of her reverie.

"Just your job, Andrea." It came out harshly, in complete contrast to the tear sliding down her cheek. Taking a deep breath, Andy walked to the drinks cabinet and poured two substantial glasses of scotch. She held one out to Miranda who had busied herself with her compact.

"I didn't ask for this." She said dismissively even as she took the glass.

Andy smiled, noticing how elegantly Miranda could even gulp down alcohol. She went to take Miranda's glass, thought better of it and fetched the whole bottle back to the sofa. She filled Miranda's glass then lay down on the sofa, her feet dangling over the arm. She took a deep breath and threw all caution to the wind. She figured that after the earlier car incident her job would be someone else's by the time they got back to New York anyway.

"I thought you could use a drink. It's not a sign of weakness." Andy could see Miranda's eyes roll even though she was staring at the ceiling.

"Am I to listen to your incessant chatter Andrea, from that unflattering position?"

Andy smiled, closing her eyes. From this position, with just the right amount of alcohol in her system, she could make out that she was having a conversation with somebody normal.

"Ah, but at least from here you can admire my acquired good taste in shoes." She thought she heard a snort from Miranda, who was busy refilling her glass again. Surprisingly she got to her feet and refilled Andy's too. The glass was teetering precariously in her hand as it dangled over the edge of the sofa.

"Any spillages come out of your salary, Andrea."

Andy was surprised when Miranda didn't return to the desk, instead choosing to fold herself into an armchair. They stayed in silence for a while, the only noise the low humming of the bar fridge and the liquid sloshing as they sipped until Andy heard a hastily muffled sob. She squeezed her eyes together and clamped her lips shut. If she opened her mouth, her life could be a living hell for the foreseeable future. But if she didn't...she cared for Miranda more than she wanted to admit. After all, she doubted if she would have returned to the hotel if it was anyone else. She flipped onto her side and propped her head up on her hand. Miranda was looking up towards the ceiling with her hand over her mouth.

"Miranda-" Andy began, but one shake of Miranda's head stopped her dead.

"Don't." There was so much venom loaded into that one word that Andy's heart stopped. "You run away, Andrea. You abandoned your job, steadfastly ignored your phone and then come waltzing back in here trying to speak to me and pouring me drinks and laying there like some heffalump when you could be doing something constructive like packing your bags and leaving." With each word Miranda's voice had gone quieter and quieter, but her pronunciation crystal clear. Andy still found it amazing that such a quiet voice actually seemed to echo around the room. Andy blinked back her tears.

"Miranda, I'm sorry...about what happened, about Stephen-"

"This has nothing to do with Stephen."

Andy flinched and had the sense to sit straighter on the sofa.

"It's you."

Andy blinked back her surprise.

"You waltz into my office in your god-awful clothing giving a big speech about how good you are, what a fantastic worker you would be, with all your juvenile credentials and despite my reservations I gave you a job. You seemed different to all the other girls who pass through my office and who idolize everything about fashion but never seem to grasp the ethic of work. I thought you had more about you, but in a way, Andrea, you...um...you disappoint me more than any of those silly girls. That's all."

Andy had failed to stop the tears that were rapidly appearing, but the feelings of anger were rising to the lump in her throat.

"Miranda I...god, no, damn it, that's not all! What do you expect from me? I am trying my best – more than my best – achieving the downright impossible for you, and when I fail it's like I dropped the Hiroshima bomb or something. Do you have any idea what you actually ask?"

Miranda gazed disinterestedly past Andy, the effect only somewhat lessened by the path of tears.

"I ask for my staff to fulfil their jobs competently. Most cannot seem to grasp this fully most of the time. You, Andrea, seem to understand the need to see past what people want and get them what they need. Most of the time. That is all I ask."

Andy was crying freely now as she got to her feet and began pacing the room.

"No, Miranda, that's not 'all you ask'! People need their coffee fetching, or their phones answered, or their dry cleaning fetched. You don't need the twins homework completed for them, or unpublished books, or airplanes in the middle of thunderstorms, Miranda; those are things you just want, to make other people's lives just that much more unbearable. Do you enjoy it or something?"

Miranda's lips were pursed, her glass still in midair. She got to her feet and took a few steps towards Andy, each one more menacing than the last.

"I do it because that is my job, Andrea. Without me, without my drive Runway would be substandard and that is unacceptable. Everything I do is for the good of the magazine, for it to be the best that it can be. I have made sacrifices for this; I will not allow it to fall apart because people are not prepared to give 100%."

Andy spun around to face Miranda. "People adore you, Miranda! There are people in that building who would throw themselves in front of crazed gunmen for you, and you barely even acknowledge that, you just take it for granted! I mean, god, is thank you really that hard for you to master?" Andy somehow sensed that she had pushed Miranda's limits to the very edge now, and she retreated slightly. Miranda pinned her with a fiery stare.

"I take it for granted that people will do their jobs, Andrea, just like any other employer. What are you expecting, a gold star? A kiss on the forehead for doing well that day? Join the real world, Andrea; no one cares. And in my world, this world that you're floundering around in; everyone leaves eventually. No one can give what I ask for. But I won't stop demanding it. If it's too much for you, Andrea, don't hang around like a coward, waiting, hoping for things to get better. This-" she waved her hand around. "This is it." Miranda didn't wait for a reply; she calmly left the room, and with a soft click, Andy was alone.

* * *

Miranda made her way slowly to her bathroom, her legs feeling the effects of the scotch she had consumed. Her brain reeled as she studied herself in the mirror; she found she couldn't look herself in the eye. She wondered at the tears that had flown so easily in front of Andy; wondered what it was about the girl that made her want to talk; wondered why she had to make her wilt. Perhaps all the papers, all the people that worked for her were right; perhaps she was an ice queen. Unfeeling. So why, then, could she not stop thinking about Andrea, about that look of absolute despair on her face when she'd started to cry? She threw the wash cloth at the mirror, the streaks of water blurring her features. _Andrea_. As if on some subconscious level she had heard, Miranda heard Andy's bedroom door click softly shut.

* * *

Andy braced herself against the door of her room, not sure if her trembling legs could support her. She couldn't stop seeing the tears flowing down Miranda's cheeks, or the look of disinterest on her face as Andy had began to cry. She thought about her outburst and let out a very Emily-ish squeak. As she slid to the floor she resigned herself to the fact that she had almost definitely lost her job. She would never work in New York again. She wondered fleetingly when the job had began to matter so much to her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind as images of Miranda assaulted her. Miranda had seemed different earlier, at first, and Andy wanted to see more of it – see the real her. She realised now that Miranda Priestly, boss lady, was the 'real' her, and she didn't know whether she could hang around any longer, continuing to hope for a smile, or any form of acknowledgement. _Don't hang around like a coward_. She glanced at her cases, tucked neatly under the bed. It would be so easy to leave, she thought. She had experienced the job, wasn't any closer to achieving her dream of writing, and still didn't set much store by fashion. She had lost friends, a boyfriend, and a social life. So why, then, when she got to her feet, did she make her way back to Miranda?

When she saw that the room was empty, Andy slumped onto the sofa and into her earlier laying position. She shut her eyes against the onslaught of emotions, but still all she could see was Miranda.

Miranda took a steadying breath and walked into the main room. She saw Andy's Blahnik clad feet poking over the edge of the sofa and barely contained a look of surprise that the girl had returned. She poured two substantial drinks from the half emptied scotch bottle and held one out for Andy.

"You came back."

Andy's eyes fluttered open to find Miranda standing over her. She clambered to an upright position.

"Miranda..." she took the glass as Miranda sat down next to her, elegantly curling her feet underneath her.

"You are only the second person to see me cry."

Andy studied Miranda's face as she tried to formulate a response. The older woman was looking at the floor; then studying her feet; looking anywhere but at Andy, who wondered if the other person had also thought her beautiful, even when she cried. Before Andy could reply, Miranda spoke again and this time pierced her with a glare. "And you won't tell anyone else about it."

It wasn't a request, and even though Miranda knew that Andy wouldn't have dreamed of telling anyone, she had to say it, had to reinforce her power. Looking at Andy's blotchy face staring back at her, she almost hated herself for it.

"I wouldn't want to, Miranda. Ever."

Miranda was the first to look away. Andy, sensing that she had been given a branch, began to speak, vaguely wondering whether Miranda's hatred for details extended to out of hours.

"Plenty of people have seen me cry, I guess." When Miranda didn't protest, or tell Andy to bore someone else with details of her sad little life, Andy continued. "I suppose Nate more than anyone. He's...was...my boyfriend."

Miranda scanned her brain and vaguely recalled some incessant mumblings about a boyfriend. She absurdly wished that she had paid more attention to Andy. She found she liked listening to, and watching her speak. She had realised earlier in the week that she enjoyed introducing Andrea to people and watching her socialise; there was something about her that just lit things, lit people up. Her eyes glittered, and to Miranda's bewilderment she had not only noticed, but also found it quite charming.

Andy laughed, somewhat bitterly. "In fact, the last time I cried we were arguing. About you. About this."

Miranda's eyebrow twitched.

"What, do you find that hard to believe? Don't you think that your actions have consequences for other people, Miranda?" she deliberately kept her voice free of any blame or bitterness and spoke quietly. "You phone at all hours of the day and night, expecting everything done for you, sorted for you right there and then, regardless of people's own personal lives. I'm not blaming you, that's just the way you are. I don't think you do think about the consequences for other people, not because you're heartless or cold, but because you just don't factor in happiness. It seems as though it doesn't occur to you, because aside from the girls, it's irrelevant to you. It's easy for you to reshuffle everything in the blink of an eye, because you're not the one who has to do all the organising, and it's never your life that's thrown into chaos."

Andy lifted her glass to her mouth and took a hefty swallow, not daring to look at Miranda. To her surprise, she felt Miranda cosy into the sofa.

"Tell me about Nate." Miranda said as she studied Andy's profile. If Miranda did give gold stars, she decided that Andrea definitely deserved one for exercising excellent control over her face to hide her shock. Andy busied herself filling their glasses and shifted more comfortably onto the couch, her pose almost matching Miranda's. She stifled a giggle, thinking that all they were missing were sleeping bags and a cheesy horror movie.

"We were good. We knew what we wanted. He's training to be a chef, I want – wanted - to be a journalist. He was so supportive. And he made the best cheese toasties. Then I got this job, and he changed. I changed. We just don't seem to match anymore. I thought we could go on like normal, but now I look at it, I'm not the person he knows anymore. I'm not even someone _I_ know anymore."

"And is that a bad thing?"

Andy sighed.

"I don't know. I just don't know anymore."

Miranda suppressed an eye roll. Normally this statement would have annoyed her to the point of terminating the conversation, but for reasons she couldn't explain she found herself suppressing her impatience and willing Andy to continue. Whilst she did find the scenario rather surreal and so out of character for her, she was intrigued. She had gone to great lengths for many years to avoid small talk and 'cosy' chats, but now for some reason, Andy made her feel like she was missing out on something. She refilled their glasses as Andy continued to speak.

"I've moved on with my life in a way that neither of us expected. Whereas before we fit together, it's like now he can't slot in. And I can't expect him to; you can't do that to someone you love. It's got to be equal, or at least a happy unequalness, and it wasn't between us anymore. I don't think either of us would settle for anything different."

Miranda contemplated this as she swirled her drink around her tongue. She wanted to know more because everything Andy had so far talked about, Miranda had never experienced. She admired Andy's openness and honesty, even with her after all this time working amongst the yes people.

"Tell me more." She said softly, and was once again impressed at how Andy could efficiently disguise a look of surprise.

"We always spent birthdays together, no matter what. This year, we were having a party for his, then doing something special, just the two of us, you know."

Miranda thought fleetingly that she didn't.

"It was the night of the charity dinner and Emily was sick." Andy faltered as she caught Miranda's eye. She didn't want to spoil things between them now by moaning about her work.

"And then evil boss lady made you work, too." Miranda finished for her, with a glint in her eye. Andy smiled shyly.

"Yeah, something like that. Lily – my friend – was phoning, but obviously I couldn't leave. Nate was at home when I got back, ready for bed. He wasn't angry. Well, he probably was, but he just looked...hurt." Andy's voice softened as she remembered that night.

"I won't apologise for it, Andrea. As I said earlier, you have a choice. A million girls, Andrea, would kill for this chance; everyone wants to be us. You can walk away at any point."

Andy looked up quickly. Her hand instinctively reached out to touch Miranda.

"I don't expect you to. It's my job, and that's the description; whatever, whenever. After Nate went to bed, I sat up thinking for a while. When Emily told me you expected me to work, I was so gutted. I even tried to protest." Miranda remembered some vague mumblings. Andy shrugged. "But I had to do it. I thought I'd hate every minute, thought I'd be aching to get home. Of course I was disappointed and sorry but it was more for Nate than anything else. Truth is I enjoyed working that night, being there with you. For you. I don't regret missing his party. And that's why I know our relationship can't work anymore."

Even though Miranda had quietly let out the breath she was holding until it became apparent that the conversation wasn't angling towards Andy's resignation, a frown still creased her features.

"Because he won't compromise?"

Andy shook her head as she drank.

"No. He will – he did- compromise. But he can't change completely and that's what he'd have to do, become a person who didn't mind last minute changes, or complete cancellations, or interruptions to special moments. He wouldn't be able to depend on me for anything. We'd end up hating each other. Like you said, I have a choice Miranda, and I chose, subconsciously at first, but that choice was made a long time ago now. I'm not leaving, Miranda."

Miranda once again held her breath as she asked Andy the next question.

"Can you live with the unpredictability, the uncertainness?"

"To be completely honest, I don't know. A year ago, I would have said no way. But here I am doing it. And I think I love it. I suppose that's how I know that I can't be with Nate anymore. I mean, if I really loved him I would find a job that fitted in around us, not the other way around."

Miranda let out her breath.

"You said the last time you saw him you cried, and it was because of me. Why?"

Andy frowned, recalling the conversation, which had been interrupted by the one person they had been arguing about.

"He said...he said he didn't recognise me anymore, and if I wasn't so wrapped up in your world I wouldn't recognise myself either. He said...he said I had sold myself out, gone against everything I had believed in, and if it was something I really wanted he could maybe understand, but it wasn't. I tried talking to him, but then my phone started to ring. I had to answer, right Miranda; I mean...I wanted to answer. How could he expect me to choose? But I suppose I can understand why, I just...I just don't want to see myself as that person."

"As me?"

Andy swiped at her tears and reached for Miranda's hand. She felt the need to reassure the woman that Andy didn't blame her. Miranda's instinctive reaction was to pull away, and she began her trademark glare at Andy, but something stopped her. She allowed the hand to rest on top of hers, although she hid her pleasure at how comforting it felt.

"Not as you, Miranda. You have your ethics, your beliefs and you stick to them, no matter what. You love Runway, your job, your status and everyone knows it and respects that. Me? I've turned into one of those yes people who surround you, those people I used to mock, but I'm so much worse because they truly believe in what they're doing. I thought I could just do this job for a year and then I'd be set to work anywhere, but now I've gotten so far into your world that I lost sight of everything I believed in without even realising it, and the thing is...the thing is, I don't know if I want to get out."

Miranda regarded her thoughtfully. She wondered if Nate had also thought her beautiful even when she cried.

"You've got great potential, Andrea. When you first started, I had you down for two days. Now, suffice it to say I've been proved wrong." Andy snorted.

"Wait, pause, rewind. I'm sure I have a voice recorder in here somewhere!" she fumbled around in the cushions, smiling at the glare Miranda directed at her, the edge somewhat taken off it by the amount of alcohol she had consumed. They sat in comfortable silence for a while; both lost in their own thoughts, both wondering what on earth had come over Miranda to allow her to waste time like this. Andy sighed and stretched out her legs from underneath her, her knee accidentally brushing Miranda's.

"I wanted to write, Miranda. I wanted to write stories that people should know about." She laughed, remembering. "I wanted to save the world."

Miranda too stretched out her legs, far more elegantly than Andy had managed, and their knees ended up resting against each other. She would normally throw a remark about Andy's naiveté at her, and probably enjoy seeing the girl wilt. She mentally winced at how casually cruelty came to her. Not tonight.

"Then write, Andrea. Don't be one of those people who blend into the background. Don't become a clacker."

Andy couldn't disguise her shock at how Miranda knew this description of most of the Elias-Clarke staff. Miranda smirked.

"I know everything, Andrea. You are becoming excellent at your job, one of the best, and I could throw an endless amount of money at you to persuade you to stay. I could ruin any chance you have of ever finding another job in this state so you have no choice but to stay with me, but if I do that and you end up like any other member of my staff then...then you will truly become my biggest disappointment."

Andy frowned as she stared at Miranda, the weight of her words sinking in.

"Miranda, are you firing me?"

Miranda waved her hand dismissively.

"Don't be ridiculous Andrea; of course I'm not firing you. I am merely stating that you only remain good at your job while you still hold on to some belief that it is not going to become your life. Once you realise that you have wasted career opportunities you would excel at to be an assistant, albeit a good one, you will no longer be as enthusiastic, and your work will therefore suffer. That is not acceptable."

Silence engulfed them once more, as they both contemplated the conversation. Miranda wouldn't allow herself to fully digest the consequences of what she had just said. Any other person with Andrea's work ethic, she would have kept hold of them until everything they had revolved around the magazine and nothing else. She couldn't understand why the thought of Andrea fading away at Runway was unacceptable to her, when she had encouraged it from so many others.

Andy, for her part was utterly puzzled. Earlier on in their conversation she could have sworn that Miranda breathed a sigh of relief when she said she didn't want to leave her job. Now the woman was practically throwing her out! Though she knew that Miranda was talking sense, something about leaving Runway was unsettling to her. She thought about Nate's words.

'_The person whose calls you always take? That's the relationship you're in. I hope you two are very happy together._'

Miranda started at the words Andy had muttered, breaking the silence.

"What did you say?"

Andy, startled that she had spoken the words out loud, gathered her thoughts.

"The last time I saw Nate, when I said you rang and I cried? Those were his last words to me, before he walked away. _The person whose calls you always take? That's the relationship you're in. I hope you two are very happy together._ But you know what? He's sort of right."

She stole a glance at Miranda, who was toying with her rings, apparently not knowing what to say. Andy plunged ahead, having realised over the course of the night that it was, in fact, this that she wanted. Being in situations like this with Miranda.

"It's not the job I'd miss, Miranda. It's you. I know how you like your coffee; I know your routine from 8am through to the time you go home. I know what foods you like and the smells you cannot stand, but I don't even know your favourite colour, or the songs that make you cry, or whatever, and you know what? I would love to. I would love to know more about you, Miranda, and that is why I don't want to leave this job. I would actually miss you." Andy let out a laugh at this last sentence. Miranda finished her drink and placed the cup carefully onto the side table. She wanted to get up and finish the conversation, but her legs had gone numb from being in one position for so long. Andy, sensing her uncomfortableness, placed a hand on her arm and left it there until she felt the Miranda's muscles relax. She noticed Miranda playing with her rings again.

"Have you ever been in love, Miranda?" Miranda's head shot around so she could glare at Andy, who met her gaze with nothing but curiosity in her eyes.

"Of course. I've been married a couple of times, Andrea, in case you had forgotten." She answered finally as she once again got comfortable on the sofa. It came out a little icier and stiffer than she intended. Andy breathed again; she was glad that Miranda hadn't simply terminated the conversation.

"I didn't ask about marriage. I asked about being in love."

Miranda, already sensing that this was coming, had refilled her glass and was taking a long sip, her lips moistening as her tongue snaked out to capture a stray drop. Andy was mesmerised.

"I must have been at some point. Although my first marriage was convenient, I still wanted my career. Stephen was there to pick up the pieces. Be a constant in the girls' lives. I loved the way he made me feel; calm; safe. But never completely comfortable. I still wanted my career; it is my life, Andrea. I can't give it up, or what would I be? I wasn't prepared to compromise... so what if I was late? Or didn't show up at all? Stephen would still be there. I suppose there's only so much of that one can take. He ended up in the papers more than I did; Mr Priestly alone again. If I loved him, I suppose I would have changed, or at least made time for him occasionally. Sad as it sounds, I never really gave him a thought. He was good with the girls and that, in the end, was good enough for me."

Miranda felt tears stinging the back of her eyes, and willed them not to fall again.

Andy shifted so that she could reach out her arm to touch Miranda's back. She visibly stiffened but relaxed as Andy started to rub gently.

"And the divorce?" she felt Miranda sigh.

"I'm sad, for the girls. For Stephen. But we didn't have a relationship; he became like another assistant. If he hadn't plucked up the guts I'd still be in the marriage. It suited me, most of the time. A selfish attitude, much like business. So you see, Andrea, I am a bitch. The dragon lady; the ice queen. And everyone leaves, eventually. Even you. You might miss me for a while, Andrea, but eventually you will leave."

Andy gently squeezed her hand on Miranda's back.

"I don't want to leave you, Miranda. And it seems to me like you won't let yourself fall for anyone completely, as if it might jeopardise all you've worked for."

Miranda wondered whether Andy was right, whether even now she was the one trying to get rid of Andy because she could feel herself falling further into something that was outside of her comfort zone.

"You shouldn't keep work as your life, Miranda. You're the best at what you do, no doubt, but there's so much more on a personal level. Don't you ever miss it? Ever wonder_ what if_?"

Miranda let out a laugh but Andy could hear the tears in her voice.

"How can I miss something I've never had? Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin my image." Andy pulled herself closer to Miranda.

"You don't have to change your life, Miranda, just...let go occasionally. Yes, being with someone should have some level of convenience, but there's so much more for you to experience. How many first kisses have you had?"

Miranda rolled her eyes, but to add to the tears gathering at the corners of her mouth, they were now twitching at the enthusiasm in Andy's voice.

"Really Andrea, I don't see how that's relevant to anything."

Andy's eyes sparkled, and Miranda found herself being drawn in further.

"It's the feeling of it. The butterflies before; the nausea of anticipation; the moment your heart starts palpitating when you realise it's really happening; the moment you stop breathing when you feel their face close to yours; the gasp for air when you finally feel skin. Warm, wet skin. The overwhelming joy that you experience when you realise that together you're really great kissers. The firm embedded knowledge that you can, without any doubt, keep doing it forever. Every kiss can be a first kiss, if you keep feeling like that. That's the way relationships should be."

"I'm not exactly the kissing type, am I?"

Andy let out an exasperated sigh and before she even had a chance to talk herself out of it, she had Miranda's face cupped between her hands. Miranda mildly resisted, her voice as she said Andy's name carried a warning, but Andy's thumb continued to stroke her cheek.

"What's your heart doing Miranda?"

"Andrea..." Miranda's voice faltered and her hand moved to still Andy's on her cheek. Andy met Miranda's eyes, expecting to find a steely glare in the ice blue, but her heart stopped when she found herself mirrored in them, both of them full of uncertainty and desire. Her fingers laced around Miranda's and she steered their hands to cover Miranda's heart.

"Your heart, Miranda?" Andy whispered, her face inching closer to the other woman's. Andy could feel even through Miranda's hand; Miranda thought it useless to deny the pounding and the missing beats.

"Palpitating," she whispered

Andy inched closer to Miranda, so close that she could feel her breath on her face, and stopped feeling it the moment she lifted her hand up to Miranda's neck.

"The moment you stop..." Andy murmured as she gently pulled Miranda to her.

They both gasped when their lips first touched; their hands mingled in each other's hair as they kissed softly, gently, feeling each other. Their tongues finally met making Andy moan against Miranda, whose hand clenched in Andy's hair as she pulled away. Her eyes darted as she searched Andy's face, and Andy flicked her thumb gently over Miranda's cheek.

"Miranda..."

And suddenly Miranda erupted. She pulled Andy towards her and pulled them back on the sofa, Andy on top of her. She devoured Andy's lips, her hands darting all over Andy's body, pulling up her top which she quickly deposited on the floor. Andy gave a cry when Miranda managed to snap open her bra and yank down the straps, and she arched into her as Miranda dragged her nails over warm smooth skin then gently caressed the white tracks left behind. Andy pushed her breasts closer to Miranda's mouth and slid a leg up between Miranda's as Miranda continued to feel every inch of her skin. Miranda gasped and dug her fingers into Andy's ass and pulling her tighter to her.

"You're so beautiful," Miranda gasped as she ground her cunt against Andrea's thigh, feeling the wetness coating her underwear. "Don't ever change, Andrea."

Their eyes met, flashing pure desire at each other. Andy lowered her mouth to meet Miranda's, their kiss surprisingly tender compared to moments before, and Andy longed to feel more of Miranda but her hands were restricted, her forearms resting on the arm of the couch were holding her weight. She held herself as close to Miranda as possible, until the suggestion of the wetness between Miranda's legs and the feel of her silk nightdress against Andy's bare skin was almost too much to bear.

"Miranda, I want to..." Their eyes met again and Andy was silenced by the look on Miranda's face. It was hurt, and resignation, and uncertainty.

"God, Miranda,' she whispered, her eyes never leaving Miranda's. 'I don't want this to end. I want to see more of you, all of you."

The throbbing between Miranda's legs was at odds with the voice in her head screaming 'sympathy fuck' at her.

"Andrea, you don't have to do this."

Exasperated, Andy managed to hold all of her weight on one arm and drag Miranda's hand down between her legs. Miranda half gasped, half moaned as her hand met the heat radiating from Andy and the wetness that almost instantly coated it. Andy's breathing shallowed at the hint of a touch from Miranda.

"I don't have to, Miranda. Haven't you been listening to anything I've said? I want to. I want you. All of you. You're absolutely breathtaking. I'm just afraid of hurting you."

She held Miranda's gaze for what seemed like forever, then lowered her mouth to place the ghost of a kiss on her lips, hoping she had conveyed everything she felt. She felt Miranda relax underneath her, then her eyes went wide and she barely contained a shriek when Miranda suddenly turned over and toppled them onto the floor.

"I won't break, Andrea."

They became a mass of limbs and loose clothing as they reached for more of each other, hot skin melting into hot skin, gasps and moans becoming one, mumbled words of adoration lost amongst the sometimes frenzied, sometimes gentle kissing that went on between them for hours.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun shone in through the suite's huge balcony windows and cast a warm beam over the couch and surrounding area. Andy stirred and moaned, feeling aches in her body before she was even fully awake. She tried to roll over to see the time, but found her movements restricted by a dead weight on her chest. In a panic, her eyes flew open, though her head reeled and protested against the fuzziness in her brain. Her eyes adjusted and she realised she was staring at the underneath of the coffee table.

_Oh, God Andy, move before Miranda sees...Miranda!_

Her eyes widened and her heart began to pound. Seconds seemed like a lifetime as her eyes darted down her body and came into contact with her boss, who was sprawled next to her, barely covered by the couch throw, her head and arm resting on her chest.

_Oh. God. _

The events of the night flashed through her mind like a vivid movie. She gasped and touched her hand to her lips.

_I am dead. Dreaming. Dying. Dead! I am on the floor with Miranda Priestly...__**boss lady **__Miranda is lying __**naked**__ next to me on. The. Floor!_

Andy squealed then stopped breathing as Miranda stirred. She didn't know what she wanted to happen; whether to wake Miranda, sneak out or go back to sleep and pray in her dreams. As she was contemplating, she found herself gently smoothing Miranda's hair and stroking her back. Deciding that, actually, she was extremely comfortable and wanted the feeling to last, she closed her eyes and impulsively held Miranda closer to her.

'Go to sleep.'

* * *

Miranda's eyes flew open at the softly whispered command. She had been on the verge of consciousness for a while but couldn't bring herself to move. Her body ached enough whilst it was still. She stopped breathing as Andy snuggled in closer to her and smoothed her hair, and as her hand came into contact with Andy's bare skin, she stifled a gasp. She remembered how hot that skin had felt on top of her, how she had tasted almost every inch of it, and how when they were drifting off to sleep she had felt that skin glued to her own. A part of her wanted to stay longer, to snuggle back into Andrea. She could pretend that this was normal; that she was alive. She shook her head as if to rid herself of the daydream, and swiftly got to her feet. She would not hang around to see the look of fear on Andrea's face when she awoke fully; she would not be the object of pity. As Andy moved in her sleep, however, Miranda faltered in her sureness. She knelt back down and gently drew the throw over Andy's naked body, her hand hovering for a moment over her hair. She allowed herself a couple of seconds before retreating to her bedroom to prepare for the day. It would be, she decided, even as she headed to the phone to order room service for Andrea, as if the night had never happened.

* * *

By the time Andrea reached the conference room at 9.30, she had almost worked herself into a mental frenzy. When she woke alone to the polite but incessant knocking of the room service, she had been almost relieved. As she wolfed down the breakfast that she had been surprised to learn Miranda had personally chosen and ordered for her, her relief began to fade into nervousness. Once she was washed, dressed and ready to leave the suite and had still not seen nor heard from Miranda, her nerves gave way to stomach-churning panic. Usually by 9am, even if Miranda was on holiday, Andy would have received at least one phone call from her boss. She took a deep breath before she opened the conference door, expecting only the unexpected.

What she found was chaos. People were buzzing around everywhere, and Andy was sure she spotted a few tears. She managed to locate Nigel, who was gesticulating wildly whilst on the phone.

"Of course I don't know why...oh, yes, why didn't I think of that, I'll just pop over and ask Miranda shall I? Just...think of something!"

Nigel snapped the phone shut violently then grabbed Andy's arm and led her to a small table in a corner of the large room.

"Where have you been? Did someone spike Miranda with some downers last night? Did you fluff her pillows wrong or something?"

Andy's stomach fluttered. "Why, what's wrong?"

Nigel's hands flew up in the air. "Where do I start? Miranda called everyone at 8 this morning, demanding to see the Valentino collection, the collection that is supposed to be carrying next month's _Runway_. She pursed her lips, Andrea! The entire collection – down the pan! And you know what she's like – she wants bigger, better, and she wants them...now, give or take a few minutes."

Andy merely gaped.

"Andy...flies."

Andy shook her head and caught up with Nigel as he rapidly strode across the room.

"So what's going on now?"

Nigel gathered up a load of spreadsheets, turned in a circle and spread them back out over the table again. If Nigel was panicking, Andy thought, then this definitely counted as crisis.

"Oh, we're all just hanging around, trying to create an "acceptable magazine that is not a poor substitute for _Cosmopolitan_" within half an hour with minimal staff and almost no original material. Everything is fine, I love Paris!"

Andy's heart raced. "Where is she now?"

Nigel sighed. "God knows, everyone has practically jumped from balconies to avoid her. Probably down at the local orphanage dangling family photo albums in front of sobbing children." At Andy's look, Nigel gave her one of his own. "I'm serious Andy. It's as if she's suddenly acknowledged everything anyone has ever said about her and decided to become the epitome of it. She fired one of the make-up artists and gave her an hour to leave the country before she would make sure that there would be no work for her in 3 continents. That reminds me...did someone get Tracy a flight yet?" he shouted. No one in the flustered room paid any attention. Andy was about to leave to try and find Miranda when someone by the door squealed.

"She's coming!"

There was a frantic rush towards the centre tables, with around twenty people trying to create some semblance of order to a makeshift Book. Andy waited for Miranda to sit before pulling up a chair slightly behind her, away from the table. Miranda looked and acted as she always did, the only change in her behaviour being that she didn't even look at Andy as she took her place. Ever since Andy had begun to raid the closet, Miranda would throw her outfit a once over, and usually - obviously silently – deem it acceptable. If Andy had been less sure of herself, she would have questioned whether she was actually physically present in the room.

"Well?"

The deathly silence in the room became punctuated with paper shuffling from everyone, each person apparently willing someone else to speak and absorb the venom. Nigel eventually cleared his throat and pushed a pile of papers towards Miranda. She nodded once and pushed the papers to the centre of the table. Andy was amazed at how Nigel could simultaneously panic, throw things about and yet still be brilliant enough to escape Miranda's wrath.

"Make sure this is ready, tomorrow 8am. Call Lagerfeld, have him meet on the day we arrive back, arrange the photo shoot for that new designer, use that photographer from the last time, and we may need elephants. Have the girls ready to leave their dad's in time for Roy to pick them up then come to the airport, book that place that they like with the outdoor pool for the weekend. Collect Patricia, take her to the townhouse. That's all." Just as abruptly as she'd entered, Miranda rose and left the room, leaving everyone as speechless as they had been when she'd appeared. Nigel leaned over to Andy.

"Please, tell me that was meant for you?"

Andy nodded, although if it hadn't been for the slight almost imperceptible flutter of Miranda's hair in her direction, it would have been impossible to tell.

"Thank God." Nigel said as he got up and set about organising a revised version of the next issue. "Because elephants in the middle of Manhattan I can deal with, anything but that dog."

* * *

Andy was at a loss. She had organised everything she could think of, laid out her outfit for that evening's dinner and had even called her parents, and still there was no sign of Miranda. She toyed with the idea of calling her, but thought better of it. How could you have a faceless conversation with someone whose reactions consisted of monosyllables and facial expressions? She paced the suite, and then threw herself down with a sigh onto her bed. Her thoughts drifted to the previous night and she groaned loudly as she pulled the pillow over her head.

_Dear God_, she mumbled. _What the fuck is going on?_

Andy wasn't sure if she wanted to see Miranda; not sure what she would say, what she wanted to say; not sure how she felt. But the continued absence and complete silence from Miranda, the woman who thought nothing of calling at 3am issuing staccato orders even when it became apparent that one was intimately busy, was unnerving almost to the point of hysteria.

_What if Miranda regrets it? What if I regret it? Do I regret it? Jesus! Is she going to fire me? Does she expect me to quit? God, she's fucking sexy! Oh, God, when did I start thinking of Miranda as sexy?_

Before she knew it, Andy had spent 3 hours musing, and having accomplished nothing, realised it was 7pm and she had only half an hour to get ready before the benefit. She wondered for the hundredth time where Miranda was, and why she hadn't even been back to the suite. There was a tap on the door and she rushed to answer it, the absurdity of Miranda knocking on her own door only fleetingly entering her mind.

Rather deflated, Andy held the door open for Nigel and returned to her room to dress. Nigel followed and gave her outfit a once over. As she slid into the black dress, she couldn't help but smile at the low wolf whistle.

"Dior?"

Andy nodded.

"Shoes?"

"Chanel."

"Nice. Who, pray tell, put this together?"

Andy's heart involuntarily fluttered as she remembered the day before they departed for Paris. She had entered Miranda's office to find her sat at her desk, with the dress packaged and hanging on a rail.

"_For the benefit...it won't fly itself there, Andrea...that's all."_

She breathed deeply and tried to appear nonchalant. "Miranda gave me the dress, actually. Something about at least trying to embrace the fashion world in a sophisticated manner."

Nigel arched his brow. "Mhmm, I see. Well, she must have taken note of your recent fashion awakening. I am proud, Six."

Now Andy raised a brow and smirked. "Four, actually."

Nigel moved through to the bar and poured two scotches.

"Congratulations...but for the purposes of continuity I shall of course have to insist on calling you Six." He downed his drink, and gave Andy's cheek a pat.

"Alas, I must depart. I wanted to come make sure you were ready, but it seems you finally have yourself under control."

At that moment, Nigel's phone rang and from his one word responses, she could tell it was Miranda on the line. He rolled his eyes as he hung up.

"Miranda's gloves?"

Andy frowned, then rushed through to her room and returned with the pristine white elbow gloves. Nigel eyed her thoughtfully as he took them.

"Why is Miranda sending me to fetch her things...why is Miranda getting ready solely in the make-up suite rather than her own?" He walked around Andy and searched her eyes. "What's going on?"

Andy tried to shrug him off. "I don't know. You know better than anyone what Miranda's like, she probably...I don't know. Has developed some sort of issue with the make-up team and is waiting to pounce. Or something."

She busied herself putting the final touches to her face and hair, and fervently hoped that Nigel would leave.

"No no." He said, sounding almost scarily like Miranda. "You are the one that fetches things for her, not me. That's part of your job, hence the 'personal' assistant. You were yesterday. Now you're not. Miranda is foul today. You are edgy. _Andrea_, something is not right."

Andy took a deep breath, frantically wondering what to say, when Nigel's phone rang again.

"The dragon emerges from the lair. I must depart."

As he reached the door and Andy was breathing a sigh of relief, he turned and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I heard that sigh. Don't think I will forget this, Six. Later."

* * *

Andy mingled, and smiled, and laughed, and did everything that she was required to do as Miranda's assistant at functions, but inside she was paying attention to nothing except the door that Miranda would enter through. When she finally did, Andy lost all track of the conversation she was involved in. She was politely excused by someone who took pity on her for being Miranda's assistant. She slowed down as she got closer to the woman. As the assistant, she knew exactly what she had to do, but after the previous night and Miranda's blatant refusal to acknowledge her earlier on, she wondered what it was that Miranda wanted from her. If she was honest, a small part of her worried about Miranda making her look like a fool in front of everyone present, though she hated to acknowledge it after the glimpse she'd had of the Miranda from last night. She finally stood face to face with the woman, and couldn't help but take her all in for a few moments, before taking her place at her side.

"Miranda." _You look beautiful._

"Andrea. I see the dress was a good choice."

The only other comment that passed between them as the night progressed was Andrea reminding Miranda of the single male who occupied the dinner table next to hers, but kept trying to make conversation. Andy had a feeling that he could be the president for all it mattered to Miranda. One more comment from him and he would be a nobody soon enough. Andy met Christian's gaze a couple of times, but could hardly concentrate on anything except Miranda. She was glad when the last course had been served, speeches made and everyone began drifting away from the tables. She headed out onto one of the balconies for fresh air. The cold wind was refreshing on her face, and even though her skin began to goose pimple, she spread her arms over the fence and closed her eyes.

"Blue."

The voice startled her and she spun around, surprised to find Miranda standing behind her. She was normally aware of Miranda's presence. Miranda moved to stand next to her, and in a rare moment of letting her guard down, she spread her arms as Andrea had just been doing. Andy shifted again so that she was leaning on the fence. She didn't want to do anything to break the mood, but she couldn't help letting her hand rest closely to Miranda's.

"I'm sorry?"

Miranda continued to look out at the city.

"You wanted to know my favourite colour. It's blue."

Andy didn't have to look again at the floor length midnight blue gown that Miranda was wearing to remind herself of her thoughts.

"Blue looks beautiful on you." _You always look beautiful._

Miranda moved her glove-clad finger so that it was touching Andy's. It was the lightest of touches, but Andy's heart jumped. She finally made her eyes focus on Miranda's face, and was almost surprised at the tenderness which lay barely concealed behind the determined steeliness. Almost. She knew there was a different Miranda inside.

"Andrea...I...I –"

They were interrupted by a polite cough which startled the both of them. Miranda quickly regained her composure, and as Andy focused on bringing her heartbeat under control, she realised that it was Christian who was air kissing Miranda. She only just about controlled her sigh, and managed to slip back into her assistant role. She plastered a smile on her face and listened to their small talk, until it became apparent that Miranda had had enough.

"So if there's nothing else, Christian?" the question was only just about the right side of polite not be frosty. Christian flashed a charming smile, which, now that she was sober, turned Andy's stomach.

"Well actually, Miranda. I was hoping for a word with your lovely assistant. She was very helpful when I found myself at a loose end, and I would like the opportunity to extend my gratitude." He kept smiling, oblivious to the look that passed between Andy and Miranda. Andy saw the tenderness of moments ago completely replaced by the glacial stare. She tried to convey her feelings in her eyes; tried to show that she didn't want Christian around, but Miranda had already looked away.

"Very well." As she reached the door to the balcony, Miranda stopped but didn't turn around. "Andrea?"

Andy took an unconscious step forwards, hoping for something that she didn't expect.

"Yes, Miranda?"

"Make sure that all the arrangements are in place for tonight's flight. I don't want any delays. That's all."

Andy closed her eyes and held her hands to her face.

"Yes, Miranda." she whispered to the retreating figure.

Christian cleared his throat again and brought Andy crashing back to her surroundings.

"What do you want, Christian?"

Christian moved closer to Andy and attempted to run his hand through her hair. She shrugged away.

"Look, Andy, I really don't understand what went wrong yesterday morning. I mean, you saw that poster and completely freaked. I thought we had something going on?"

Andy snorted.

"Something going on? I was drunk, Christian. It was nothing. Especially when I found out you were an underhanded bastard."

Christian looked perplexed.

"Underhanded? Andy, things move on. That was the future. I was just a small part in big changes. Surely, working in this world has taught you that sometimes what seems unpleasant to one person is necessary for others to progress."

Andy shook her head.

"No, Christian. I mean yes, I work in this world, but I still don't understand why it's necessary to treat people like shit and think that it's ok. And as far as you thinking that we had something going on? You were prepared to do me out of a job, as well as Miranda. Did you even think about that? Or was I not big enough to even register on your radar? I don't find anything remotely appealing about you, Christian. I don't know how you could be so low."

Christian gave a wry smile, then moved to grab Andy by the arm and pressed his face up close to hers. She smelled alcohol and potent aftershave and wondered even when she was drunk how she could have found him remotely attractive.

"I thought you were different, Andy, but now I see, you've fallen so far into the Ice Queen's lair that you've become just like the rest of them. I'm not low, Andrea, I'm true to myself. The same as Miranda. She'll fuck you over, in the end."

He let go of Andy's arm at the same moment that she wrenched herself free, and that Miranda reappeared in the doorway.

He backed away, and attempted to flash Miranda a smile.

"Well, I can't be completely sure about the modern protocols of showing gratitude, but I am assuming that this little show has come to an end, Mr. Thompson?"

Christian at least had the grace to blush slightly.

"Thank you, Miranda. I think Andy and I have found ourselves on equal footing now."

Miranda gave a half smile as he walked past. She caught Andy's eye, and just before Christian disappeared, she inclined her head towards him. Andy thought she would never cease to be amazed at how such a low whisper could seemingly echo for miles.

"Oh, and Mr. Thompson?"

Christian turned back, the smile still stuck on his face.

"If you ever lay so much as a pompous curl on my staff again, I will see to it that not even Jacqueline Follet will see fit to hold you in her employ." She turned and flashed him a perfect imitation of his smile. "That's all."

Andy took a step towards Miranda, but stopped abruptly when Miranda stepped back. Andy tried to hold Miranda's gaze, but the other woman wouldn't focus on Andy's face.

"Whilst you are in my employ, Andrea, you are contractually bound to ensure that you do not put yourself in a position that can be used to the detrimental effect of either myself or Runway. Just so that we are clear, Andrea, there will not be another warning."

As Miranda turned to leave, Andy impulsively reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Miranda I..."

Miranda finally held Andy's eyes, only to pierce her with an icy glare. She moved her eyes slowly from Andy's down to her arm. Andy got the message. Her arms now dangling loosely at her sides, she tried again.

"Miranda, Christian and I...I mean..."

Miranda cut her off with a hand motion.

"I don't care what you do with your personal time, Andrea, as long as it doesn't affect your job. The only thing I ask of you is that you do your job. The same as everyone else."

And Miranda left the balcony without even so much as a falter in her step.


	5. Chapter 5

Miranda checked her watch again and resisted the impulse to phone Andrea and issue the same instructions as she had earlier about the flight home. It was 11pm, and she had left the benefit an hour previously in order to be ready for the journey back to New York. She knew everything was on schedule, and that Andy was one of the only people she could rely on to make the plans run smoothly; if she was honest with herself, the only reason that she wanted to call was to hear Andrea's voice. She looked at herself in the mirror, and surprised herself with the tenderness she found in her eyes as she thought of Andrea. Her thoughts turned to the interaction she had witnessed between Andrea and Christian, and her features hardened; she was glad she had mastered the ability to hide hurt behind many layers. She vividly remembered everything Andrea had whispered to her the previous night, all the warm, breathless, affectionate murmurings that had, along with the passion, made her melt. She wondered how much of that had also been shared with Christian. Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. She made her way to the elevator, and to the waiting car outside, bracing herself for the journey home, thankful that at least she wouldn't have to endure the car journey with Andrea.

* * *

They had been travelling for only ten minutes when Nigel brought up the subject that Andy had fervently hoped he had forgotten about.

"You know, Six, it strikes me that you can't very efficiently assist our charming boss with all her understated demands if you are travelling in separate vehicles at separate times."

Andy rolled her eyes.

"Nigel, this is Miranda. Unpredictable is her middle name. And everyone needs their own space, I've been around all week and stuck on the same flight, a short break in the car isn't too much of a puzzle is it. Besides, if I'm at the airport earlier it just makes it easier to get everything ready so we can leave as soon as she gets here."

Nigel held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay okay. Geez, a girl can't even ask a question anymore. However..._still_ doesn't explain my earlier role as temporary assistant, hmm?"

He linked his fingers and rested his chin on them, staring at Andy until she threw her hands up in exasperation.

"For God's sake, Nigel! You've known her far longer than I have, I can't even fathom why she needs her coffee steaming hot when it burns if you even attempt to drink it then, let alone get into her head and explain the reasoning behind every quirk in her behaviour! If I could do that, Nigel, I would be rich!" _Not to mention a whole lot less stressed right now._

Nigel barely concealed a smirk.

"Andy, honey, you've learnt so much since you've been here, but hiding your feelings is not one of them. I know exactly what Miranda is like, and I know that she is unpredictable, sometimes for no other reason than to be unpredictable, but whatever mood Miranda is in, she is always the one that stays still whilst everyone runs around her. She does not, ever, go out of her way for anyone or anything. Which is why, honey, I know that there is something more going on because earlier before the benefit she went completely out of her way to make sure she avoided you at all costs. And I know that this goes deeper than just pure unpredictability because if she really wanted to make you feel uncomfortable, she would haul you into her lair and only let you loose when you were a quivering wreck. _She _didn't want to be near _you_, and that's why I'm enquiring. First I was after gossip, admittedly, but Andy...well...you're coming across as an emotional wreck, and I thought you might like to get it off your chest before other people notice, or you completely freak out...or something."

The protest she had been forming died on her lips at the penetrating look Nigel directed at her. She sighed deeply.

"Okay. Nigel...don't freak, okay." She took a deep breath, trying to resist the impulse to turn into a hysterical schoolgirl. "So last night, there...there was lots of alcohol, and we...Miranda and I...we...talked, a lot, then...well..."

Nigel's eyes widened dramatically before he held his head in his hands. "Andy, please please please tell me you are not telling me what I think you're trying to tell me?"

Andy shrugged her shoulders. "There was a...thing."

Nigel groaned.

"Jesus Andy. You and Miranda?"

Andy nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay. "Me and Miranda. And now...now it's all just...it's all weird."

She gave him a brief overview of the night, telling him about Miranda's impending divorce but skimming over the more intimate details, and emphasising the amount of scotch consumed. She told him about the interaction on the balcony earlier on in the evening, including the interruption by Christian. By the time she finished, the car was pulling up outside the airport. Conscious of the other staff who were meeting outside, Nigel pulled Andy close for a quick hug.

"We'll talk tomorrow. But Andy, that Dior dress you wore tonight? It's vintage, designed for Miranda over twenty years ago. It's only been worn once, even though there have been many people who could have carried it well. She chose it herself. For you." He gave her a pointed look and a quick squeeze before they left the car. Andy was trying to latch on to the small flicker of...hope, perhaps, that skirted the edges of her stomach, but mostly, talking through everything, and Nigel's response, had just left her more confused.

* * *

Andy breathed a sigh of relief that everything had, so far, gone to plan. Now, with all the staff onboard, the entire luggage loaded and the minimal cabin crew ready on the private jet, all they were waiting on was Miranda. Andy's stomach somersaulted at the thought of seeing Miranda again, and as if summonsed by the very though, Miranda appeared in the doorway of the plane. She held Andy's gaze for a few seconds before she made her way to her own designated area. Andy followed, knowing her boss would probably request another run through of tomorrow's schedule. She hoped, however, for a glimpse of the woman she had barely had time to acknowledge the last couple of days, but she didn't expect miracles.

* * *

As soon as she boarded the plane, Miranda unconsciously sought out Andrea. She found her assistant's gaze and worked hard at suppressing a gasp at the intensity of it. It seemed like minutes before she made herself look away and make her way to the front. She knew, without having to check, that Andy would follow; it was almost as natural to her assistants as learning to walk, she imagined; wherever Miranda goes, one follows. But she also realised that she was completely aware of Andy's presence in a way that hadn't existed before. She made herself comfortable, forcing herself to act normally and not acknowledge Andy in the slightest. When she sat down, she pulled out her phone and began to reel off a list of instructions. As Andy had expected, she had already taken care of most of the list, so she took the time to merely look at Miranda. Before she realised, the pilot was announcing take off, and she realised she didn't have time to make it back to the staff section and leave Miranda in peace. Miranda flicked her eyes in her direction, putting all her effort into the disinterested glance.

"A sitting position is required before you can use the seatbelt, Andrea, or do you plan to be the cause of a delay?"

Andy hurriedly sat down, not thinking to grab any other seat but the one closest to Miranda. As the silence extended, and the pilot announced turbulence, Andy realised her seating mistake. She couldn't very well move to a seat farther away now, but it would be a while before she could slope away to join Nigel. She hastily suppressed a sigh and made herself comfortable in her seat, trying her very hardest not to stare at Miranda. Paranoia set aside for the moment, Andy could swear Miranda kept looking at her, too.

They had been up in the air for what seemed like hours, but when Andy checked, it had only been ten minutes. The seatbelt light, no matter how much she stared at it, refused to switch off. She turned her head to check Miranda, and almost squeaked when they caught each other's eyes. She saw Miranda's eyes widen, and in the moment before she knew Miranda would look away, she said the first thing that entered her head.

"Purple."

Miranda looked confused. "Purple?"

Andy nodded, the conversation almost a mimic of the earlier balcony scene.

"I've always been torn between blue and purple. After this week I'm in love with midnight blue, though I'll never be able to see it without thinking of you. So my favourite colour is purple. In case you were wondering."

Miranda abandoned the pretence of checking her phone.

"Please, bore someone else with the details of your life." Even Miranda realised that her voice lacked the usual cutting edge to it.

"Miranda I..."

Miranda sighed.

"For goodness sake, Andrea, if you do insist on carrying on, can you at least spare me the indignity of shouting across the plane." She shifted slightly in her double seat, the only indication she would give for Andy to sit next to her. Andy hesitantly undid her seatbelt and slid next to Miranda.

The silence was uncomfortable. Andy, unsure of what to say now, fidgeted slightly, accidentally brushing her leg against Miranda's. Miranda gasped, and Andy's eyes flew up to meet Miranda's. Miranda searched the deep brown eyes and shook her head slightly.

"What do you want, Andrea?"

Andy, not being able to find the words, unsure herself of what she wanted to say, gingerly reached out and loosely linked her fingers with Miranda. She held her breath, but Miranda didn't pull away.

"What you want, Andrea, I cannot give you. You don't know me. You think that because of this, we will get back to New York and everything will be different; I will somehow have had some sort of epiphany and turn into one of the nicest people you could wish to work for. Nothing will change, Andrea; it can't. I am your boss; you are my assistant, until you inevitably mess up or find your ideal career saving the world. I will not treat you any differently."

They spent the remainder of the flight in silence. Miranda tried to concentrate on her phone but tucked it away after realising she had been staring an hour and hadn't pressed a single button. She was desperate to talk to Andrea, but she wouldn't let herself. She couldn't get hurt again. Andrea would leave, eventually. Everyone did. And if she didn't...well then her own track record wasn't without its casualties. She didn't want to hurt Andrea.

Andy had closed her eyes, but couldn't rest because her brain was travelling a mile a minute. She wanted to question Miranda, to confirm that they both felt the same way. Perhaps if Andy worked elsewhere then...she shook her head. She had said she wouldn't leave. Miranda wouldn't be able to see past that.

Neither woman really noticed that for the duration of the flight, even when Andy nodded off, their hands were linked by their little fingers.

* * *

Miranda appeared shocked when the pilot announced their imminent landing. She studied their hands then Andy's sleepy face. Andy felt the shift in the atmosphere and pulled herself out of her half-awake dreams. She immediately became aware of her fingers entwined with Miranda's and looked at the other woman with gentle surprise.

"Hey," she smiled softly.

Miranda sucked in her cheek and turned away from those intense eyes to look out the window, not trusting herself to speak to Andy. She couldn't help but gently brush Andrea's fingers as she extracted herself from the tenuous link.

"I want Demarchelier on the phone before 9am tomorrow; that Valentino collection is still utterly disastrous I mean the biggest most important week of the year and they produce Bargain Bin chic? I think not. We need fresh...ideas." Miranda said softly, trying to force her voice to remain steady. There was so much more she wanted to say to Andrea, but...it was just better this way.

Andy visibly wilted as she fished around for her notepad.

"Yes Miranda." she mumbled. After a minute of Andy waiting expectantly, Miranda snapped.

"Well? Has the plane not stopped? Does your incompetence demand a stint longer than necessary immobile on this tarmac?"

Andy smiled sadly and got to her feet. She was two rows back when she heard Miranda softly calling her name. She braced herself before nearly tripping over herself to get back to Miranda.

"Yes Miranda?"

Miranda sighed softly. It was folly, what she was about to say. She half hoped that Andrea wouldn't hear her call her name, then smirked as she contemplated this. Her assistants wouldn't get past the first day if they didn't learn to develop supersonic hearing. She closed her eyes, and didn't turn to face Andy; she already knew her assistant's attention was completely on her.

"_Eva Cassidy's Fields of Gold _never fails to produce a melancholy state. Although I have been known to shed a tear at an exceptional performance of _Nessun Dorma."_

Andy looked thoroughly confused and frantically searched her brain for some request by Miranda that she had somehow overlooked. She couldn't suppress her affectionate smile when she realised Miranda's reference to their conversation the previous night.

Miranda finally turned and couldn't help the slight, soft rising to the corners of her mouth at the beautiful look on Andrea's face. She allowed the connection for a moment before expertly placing her professional mask firmly into place.

"That's all."

As she walked away, Andy hoped not.

**A/N: So...after two years on and off I've FINALLY finished this story! I wouldn't like to post things until they're finished, or at least nearly done (I find it really disappointing to get into a story only to find it's not complete and there are no updates forthcoming...I'm greedy like that :)****!) so it's been a long, tortuously pleasurable journey haha! Please let me know what you think. I've read over it so many times that I think I could recite it in my sleep, but no one's perfect so my sincere apologies for any glaringly obvious mistakes! Squeakuel? Hmm...don't know, whaddya think? ;)**

**Thank you, drinks all round methinks! xx**


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